Crimson Path
by halteddreams
Summary: PreHBP. Harry is sick and refuses to believe it, when he does, will his life be too late to be saved? Warning: Abuse & self mutilation.
1. Ch 1

**Summary:** Harry is sick and refuses to believe it, when he does, will his life be too late to be saved?

* * *

He liked the sense of power if gave him, that only he could do this to himself. He shivered in delight as the cold metal ran down his arm, whispering of things to come, the pleasure he would soon feel. 

He knew this wasn't normal, this wasn't what sane people did, then again, he knew he was never meant to be normal to begin with, after all, his destiny wouldn't allow that, now would it?

He laughed bitterly, cursing all the contradictions and wondering how come no one ever noticed this side of him before, or perhaps this was his imagination?

_'One sick imagination you have if it is true, Potter'_ he sneered to himself.

But no, it wasn't--

the blood weeping from his wounds proved to him; it was all real.

He just stared, stared until the flow of his blood continued to run down his fingers and drip onto the hard floor.

He looked at the knife; it was a curse but a blessing all at the same time. This cold piece of metal was his ally, his only true friend who offered him comfort in those cold dark and lonely nights, only friend who gave him relief.

Ah, but if anyone ever found of his secret ally surely they would take it away. He would not allow this happen especially since they've already taken away everything he ever loved or could've loved.

No, he would make sure nobody found out this secret.

It would remain just that--

A secret.

* * *

"Great game last night, wasn't it, Harry?" asked his friend, Ron Weasley. 

Harry shrugged in response and tinkered with his eggs.

Unbeknown to him, Hermione and Ron exchanged worried glances.

"Harry, can we perhaps talk, perhaps in private?" asked Hermione sweetly, too sweetly.

Harry bit his lip."Why? We only have twenty minutes until class starts--"

"Twenty minutes is all we need," replied Ron quickly, too quickly for Harry's liking.

Harry scowled, weighing out his options as to how he could get himself out of this one.

_'You're out of luck, eh?'_ the voice sneered.

"All right," he growled, and stood up, exiting the Great Hall without waiting for him to flank him.

"Harry, we're worried about you," began Hermione once they were in the Room of Requirement.

"Why? I'm absolutely fine," he said.

"Mate, we've been your mates since day one, we aren't stupid," shot back Ron.

"Listen, I won't deny it, I'm under a lot of stress, but other than that, I'm perfectly fine," he said, without breaking eye contact.

_'My my, what an excellent liar you've become, Potter',_ a voice sneered in his head.

_'Shut up'_ he hissed back.

Both looked somewhat unconvinced.

Harry sighed in exasperation. "You're worrying too much that you're making things up."

"Are we, Harry?" asked Hermione sincerely.

"Yes, you know if I had any problems, you two are the first ones I go to," he said, smiling. "I could never keep anything from you even if I tried."

Hermione smiled. "Alright, just don't be afraid to talk about what you're thinking, half the time Ron and I aren't sure what exactly you are thinking, we just want you to know it's the three of us, not just you."

_'Funny, your names weren't mentioned in the prophecy'_ his inner voice sneered.

"Yeah, mate, maybe you don't notice, but you're always wandering by yourself," said Ron, hands in his pockets, a sign he was nervous.

Harry smiled, it was forced but they didn't know that. "Thanks, both of you, it means a lot, you guys caring."

With instinct, he embraced them to fully show them he was all right.

_'You really should've been a Slytherin, quite a waste of talent you are in Gryffindor,'_ the voice said defeated.

_'I know,'_ he replied darkly.


	2. Ch 2

**Author's Notes:** Please excuse the first chappie, I wrote it at 2 AM with two hours of sleep, thus I hope I can make it up with this chappie. Warning: Cutting! Enjoy and don't be afraid to review, flames however, will be used to cook my chicken tonight. Thanks. :)

* * *

Sometimes he dreamed he was back in hell, back in that cupboard, locked away from the world, the only thing he had was his blanket and the spiders who also occupied the cupboard with him. 

Sometimes he dreamed he couldn't open the latch, only he wasn't little anymore, he was sixteen stuck in the hellhole once more.

"Uncle Vernon!" he hollered, but received no reply.

'_Great, I'm stuck here,'_ he thought to himself.

'_Only in your mind, Potter,'_ replied the voice.

'_That is a bunch of dragon shit and you know it,'_ he replied back.

"Harry, Harry!" an urgent voice shook him awake.

He sat straight up, panting heavily. "What? What's wrong?"

Ron gave him a calculating look. "You were thrashing in your sleep, was it another vision?"

Harry looked around and was thankful he woke nobody else. He must've forgotten to set the charms upon his bed after his ritual cutting—

Damn it. He didn't need to look to see, he could _feel_ the dried blood on his skin.

"No, just a dream," he wheezed, telling his pounding heart to calm down and subconsciously making sure he kept his hand under the blankets, hoping the blood had not seeped through so it was not noticeable.

Ron gave him a wary look and sighed. "I know you don't want to talk, but we _will_ talk in the morning, all right?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice.

After he made sure Ron was make in his bed, he quickly cast the charms and examined the damage or in his opinion, the masterpiece.

He couldn't help but cringe at how deep and uncoordinated they were; usually he liked to make perfectly straight lines…

'_Ah, can't even be perfect in cutting yourself, can you?'_ laughed the voice.

'_Shut up,'_ he growled back, touching the wound, his whole sleeve soaked.

He made his way to the restroom and scrubbed his wrist clean, watching his blood mix with the clear water, washing away the evidence as he did every night, only this night he got careless.

'_Must not let that happen again,'_ he vowed to himself.

He couldn't afford to lose this dear friend, the one who helped him get through all these years; he would surely die without him.

His hands clenched into fists and his breathing became heavy.

"No, I will never let that happen," he spoke out loud to convince himself.

'_Talking to yourself is a sign of insanity, Potter,'_ the voice said.

_'What else is new?'_ he shot back, closing the bathroom door behind him.

* * *

He told Professor McGonagall she had gone bonkers when she handed him Captaincy. She shook her head and her eyes twinkled, much like that annoying old man who liked lemon drops. 

"I only pick the best, Mister Potter, and you certainlyare the best," she said, a glimmer of pride evident in her tone.

He held himself back from rolling his eyes and merely smiled. "Well then, thank you, Professor."

"I'm depending on you, Mister Potter, I like everything to be top-notch, I only accept 1st place," she warned, and with that, walked off.

He smirked. McGonagall should have been in Slytherin when it came to competition he thought.

He started walking and was nearing the corner when something—or rather someone bumped into him, head on.

"Sorry," he said, untangling himself from the girl and helped her up when it dawned on him who she was.

"Cho," he said in a strain voice. "Err—nice to see you."

He hardly recognized her with all the dark make-up and how short she cut her hair; she looked nothing like the girl he knew last year.

"Hi Harry," she replied, "It's good to see you."

Ever since last year Harry knew Cho and him were doomed from the start, as to what he saw in her in the first place he couldn't remember.

'_Her looks, perhaps? I don't blame you,'_ said the voice.

'_I've learned to aim for personality over looks now,'_ he responded back.

'_Bravo, you learned the hardest lesson that all teenage boys face,'_ the voice congratulated him.

He grimaced, wishing he had never bumped into her but he knew it was inevitable at some point. "I must go; I have to go to the library."

And with that he continued on, never looking back.

* * *

'_You should make her pay,'_insisted the voice. 

'_But why? It is said and done with,' _he replied.

'_Ah, but what if her friend never told? Then Dumbledore would've never left and Umbridge would have never been in charge, and the whole mess at the Department of Mysteries would have never happened…after all, had Dumbledore been there none of that would have never—'_

'_Shut up, shut up, shut up!'_ he screamed back.

He picked up his dear old friend and admired its beauty, its perfection.

'_Face it, Potter, you need help, how long do you plan to keep up this façade?'_ the voice asked him.

The first cut pierced his skin and he welcomed the pain, bringing him back to reality.

'_I'm good at hiding, I've done it my whole life, after all,'_ he replied back smartly.

He closed his eyes, remembering all the times he hid as he shook with fear in his cupboard, wondering how long it would be before his Uncle—

'_Mustn't think about that,'_ he told himself firmly. _'It's all in the past.'_

'_So you tell yourself, the past always comes back to haunt the present, afraid of what they would think if they knew how tainted you were, Potter?'_ the voice gloated. _'Have a field day the press would.'_

The second cut was deeper than the first, but not deep enough…

'_Perhaps nobody will find out, like you said,'_ the voice continued on, drawling,_ 'after all, you're the Great Harry Potter, surely heroes don't have problems, right? Like cutting their arms and thinking of death—'_

'_I'm not planning on death,'_ he bit back.

The third sweeter than the last and he sighed in pleasure…

'_They say this is how all insane people start out, convincing themselves they aren't trying to kill themselves—"_

The fourth much much deeper…

He laughed bitterly at the voice. "Perhaps you are the reason I am insane. Perhaps I should cut you out."

'_You can't because I _**am**_ you, Potter,'_ the voice responded.

'_Damn you, I don't want you anymore! Leave me be!'_

The fifth cut made him cry out; too deep.

'_Oh dear, we have a problem, don't we?'_ said the voice sarcastically.

He wrapped his wrist with his towel, applying pressure, the towel becoming moister by the second—

'_Tick tock, and this is how the life of the Great Harry Potter ends,'_ laughed the voice. _'By his own hand. Sure saved old Voldy the problem.'_

'_Shut up, it's nothing,'_ he shot back, his heart hammering when the flow was not slowing.

'_Fuck fuck fuck,'_ he cursed.

'_If I were you I would start writing a letter, explaining why you choose to end your life so abruptly,'_ the voice sneered._ 'Perhaps you will explain to them why, what they have done to you, what they have reduced you to, how they neglected and used you as some toy, or maybe how he touched you, and a part of you welcomed it, what a slut you truly are, Potter. You begged for it, didn't you?'_

He sighed in relief when the flow stopped. He peeled back the towel to reveal five angry marks, still red, still angry.

'_Shame, this really shows what a coward you are, Potter,'_ the voice said mockingly.


	3. Ch 3

**Author's Notes:** Thank you for the reviews! ) I'm afraid this path only gets darker. Read on.

* * *

Keeping secrets was something he was always good at, brilliant even. He thrived on secrecy, on deception, the less people knew, the better off he was. 

Let the bastards think he was all right, normal as can be. Let them. But he was at the point where he didn't care what anyone thought anymore. Not like anyone of them took the time to actually get to know him.

He wasn't sure if he really knew himself. His past was too haunted, his present currently screwed up, and his future didn't look too bright either.

And thus, something new arose in him.

There was no need to hide from them. He was so sick of hiding, so sick of the deception and the false smiles.

No, he needed to feel real again. Not briefly, not like those brief moments with his shiny friend, but actual moments.

'_They won't accept this 'new' you, I'm afraid, you're not thinking logically,'_ warned the voice, for the first time--sounding utterly concerned about something he was going to do.

_'Perhaps, but then again, why should I run? If they think of me as their savior, why they can't accept I'm not perfect?'_ he questioned.

_'Because, heroes are suppose to everything they **aren't,** which includes suicide cases,'_ the voice leered.

_'It's not suicide, I don't want to die,'_ he confessed.

He didn't want to die.

Strange, he never had admitted this to himself until now.

Did he truly mean it?

* * *

"I'm worried about Harry,"began Hermione. "More and more he is acting more...strangely...more withdrawn, I'm afraid to the point where he can't come back." 

Hermione Granger didn't want to see at first, didn't want to believe it.

But she couldn't deny what was right in front of her.

She only wished she could be blind.

She was confused, for this situation wasn't one to be easily solved in books.

"I know, he's having dreams too," confessed Ron sadly, chewing his bottom lip. "He's changed, Hermione, into someone I don't recognize."

"But he's still our Harry, I still see the same old Harry, we have to make sure we don't lose that part of him," she replied. "We're his friends, Ron; we can't just stand and watch, we need to take action."

"But what can we do, Hermione? We need...experts," he admitted, hating the fact that it had gotten so worse, now Hermione and he couldn't even fix it.

"You're right, of course," she responded. "We need to inform an adult--"

"But Harry will found out--and when he does--"

"It's for his own good, maybe even his life," she replied sadly, taking out a piece of parchment.

"Who?" he said, for a second he wanted to say Sirius, but then remembered.

"I know, I wish he were still here," she said, "but honestly, he wouldn't have been able to help Harry anyway--"

"You be surprised how similar their family history was, Hermione," he said grimly.

"Nonetheless, we need to contact someone else," she said determinedly.

And Hermione began writing--

_Dear Professor Lupin..._

_

* * *

_

Hermione always sucked at lying.

Harry couldn't help but grin for her trying.

Useless really.

_'The secret will soon be out,'_ said the voice. _'Aren't you the least bit concerned?'_

_'No, why should I? I'm not afraid anymore,'_ he admitted._ 'I've realized that life is precious, yes, but eventually we all die out. Just some sooner than others.'_

_'You're thinking irrationally, come to your senses. Don't you know what they will do? Lock you up, label you a nutcase--you're probably never see daylight--'_ urged the voice, sounding truly terrified

_'If I didn't know better, I say you're more scared than I,'_ he said, now mocking the voice.

_'Silly boy, I am you, remember? I am apart of you, embedded within you, the **real** Harry Potter,'_ the voice said.

_'Time to show them the **real** Harry Potter then,'_ he laughed, going to his truck and piling all his clothes and textbooks into it.

_'A trip? Where to?'_ asked the voice.

_'Somewhere---quiet, where nobody will find me, of course,'_ he replied.

_'I give them at least a_ _day,'_ replied the voice.

_'A day?'_

_'You underestimate the Order, they **will** find you, be rational,'_ urged the voice. _'And when they do, it will be the perfect excuse to lock you away from society.'_

_'All the more reason to make sure I pick the right location,'_ he replied swiftly.

With a click, he was packed and ready.

* * *


	4. Ch 4

**Author's Notes:**This story is now pre-HBP.I would think it's more than obvious now. AndHappy Birthday, Harry and JK! D

I don't like writing Dumbledore, I dunno, it's an art to master JK Rowling's style of the aging Professor. Warning: Manipulative! Dumbledore. Sexual Abused! Harry. Nothing graphic though. Thank you for the reviews!

* * *

Remus Lupin knew something was wrong the moment he stepped on Hogwarts grounds after receiving a disturbing letter. 

He prayed he wasn't too late.

He barged into Dumbledore's office, not bothering with formalities.

Hermione and Ron were already there, obviously the first ones to know. But they wouldn't be the last.

"Where is he?" he demanded, stalking over to the old man's desk.

The same man who had been his mentor, a friend, anda man he admired and looked up to since he was a small boy, who gave him a chance to live a normal life. Not once, but twice.

But none of this mattered now, it wasn't about him.

It was about Harry.

"Remus, please take a seat--" replied Dumbledore calmly, as if he had invited him over for brunch.

"Have you lost your mind? We need search teams! Maybe even Aurors--" he shouted. "Before Voldemort himself finds him!"

"You will learn, Remus, that when people don't want to be found, you simply can't find them," said Professor Dumbledore.

Remus fumed. How could he so calm? Him of all people should know how dangerous it was for Harry to be unprotected, Merlin knows where--

"So, what is your plan?" he asked, clenching his teeth.

"My plan, as it always as been, is to simply let things play out," sighed Dumbledore. "I've been expecting a rebellion for a long time now, quite natural for a boy Harry's age--"

"So you're just going to sit here?" he asked in disbelief.

He hardly noticed Hermione and Ron with their bloodshot eyes.

Dumbledore had lost his mind. Harry was missing.

They already lost the war before it truly begun.

"I've interfered in his life too much," the old man confessed, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I believe I would only do more harm, forcing Harry back."

"That is a load of--"

"You must understand," persisted Dumbledore, standing up, his eyes hard. "This is a challenge only Harry himself can face, he must fact his inner demons in order to achieve greatness, and unfortunately, he must do this alone. If we interfere, it could either slow the process down or make it worse."

Remus Lupin was downright confused. He understood that yes, Harry did need time alone to think, but without protection? And especially now with the war that broke out?

"But he's unguarded--"

"No, he's not," cut in Hermione. "He used the Fidelius Charm."

"But who?"

"We may never know, perhaps it is best that we don't," said Dumbledore, shooting Remus a warning look. "I agree, Harry needs to talk things out, but first, he must realize his fears and doubts in order for him to talk about them to us. If we found him, which I doubt, unless the Secret Keeper comes forth, he will only be angrier and more betrayed. If he feels betrayed, then we will truly lose him completely."

Hermione choked out a sob.

Remus was stomped. Still in shock. Dumbledore obviously had thought this through. Perhaps he was right; Harry simply needed to be alone. Nothing to worry. Sirius had been that way for months after he escaped, and eventually he came back, more alive, more living.

Yes, when this was done and Harry was ready--

He would be livelier.

* * *

_'Excellent choice, I love the decorations,'_ laughed the voice as Harry swept back the cobwebs. 

'_Glad you approve,'_ he growled.

'_I didn't know we knew about the location of this place,'_ said the voice.

'_I didn't…my instincts should've pointed me here,'_ he confessed.

'_Wise choice,'_ commented the voice.

Harry didn't care that it smelled and was dusty. But it would do.

He took out his small pocket knife and did his nightly ritual.

One for the pain.

Two for sacrifice.

Three for the deaths.

Four for lost love.

Five for betrayal.

He couldn't help but admire the lines and how they flowed down his wrist.

His blood. His life.

It was the most beautiful thing he would ever see.

His blood leaving his body. This was power beyond power, only **he** could achieve this.

He smiled wickedly.

_Sickingly, it was the only time Uncle Vernon wouldn't kick him around, punch him, or knock him out._

_No, Uncle Vernon always wanted him to be awake when he performed this sort of punishment._

_Always wanted him to 'participate' more like. Uncle Vernon once said it was more degrading to the victim._

_He must confess, he only liked it because if he did it right, he wouldn't have to worry about bruises._

_He learned to participate more, anything to avoid from blacking out on a daily basis._

_Heck, he even offered in exchange of less bodily harm._

_Yes, perhaps without Uncle Vernon realizing it, this was a power Harry had over him._

_By simply getting on his knees, he learned clever ways to getting his way._

"_I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon, I'll make it up to you," he would say, inwardly barging, but knowing, this was his ticket._

_He didn't want to thrown around, having to cover all the marks, having to explain to his classmates where he got the new bruises._

_It was all Uncle Vernon's idea when he started Primary school, he wasn't a dumb man, and he knew question would arise if he continued the same acts of punishment._

_He remembered how it all began._

_He was drawing on an old coloring book of Dudley's when his Uncle roughly gripped him by the collar, snarling._

"_Your Aunt Petunia got a phone call, today," he began, his eyes dark._

"_Please…" was al he could think of._

"_I won't let you go unpunished, now, I thought of another way, with in exchange of feeding and clothing you, you ungrateful freak, I figured I would get my pleasure's worth from you," he sneered, a sick grin appearing on his sex._

_He was only five, more too young to understand the true meaning behind his Uncle's words._

_But it only took five minutes for him to realize **exactly** what he meant._

"No!" he shouted, waking up and gasping for air, his heart beating a mile a minute.

No matter how hard he tried, he could always be afraid.

He would always be that little boy, helpless and defend-less.

"I suppose I should just save Voldemort the trouble," he said grimly.

* * *

Before Hermione to open her mouth and shoot him glares after the three departed from the office, he silenced her with a look. 

"Don't look at me like that, Hermione, I thought you of all people would know me better than that," he smiled fondly at the young witch. "After the events of last year, I'm sure we've all realized Dumbledore's ways aren't always the best."

Merlin, he knew thought he say that. Dumbledore always knew everything. Dumbledore was wise and knew how to handle bad situations profoundly.

But not anymore.

"Do you have idea who might've been the Secret Keeper?" he asked sharply.

Harry was smart not to choose Hermione or Ron, that would've made it too obvious, plus judging by the events he had gathered from Hermione and Ron's letters, they would've been willing to tell him the location.

Obviously someone they would least suspect. Damn Harry for thinking like Sirius, making the same assumption.

Both shook their heads sadly.

"Harry has never been close to anyone in the school but us—" said Hermione.

"Yes, but you said so yourself, he has been more withdrawn, wandering off by himself, perhaps he was meeting someone? Without your knowledge?" he questioned, the puzzle seemingly to fit into place.

Ron and Hermione shot each other a look; obviously they had never thought of this possibility.

Merlin.

* * *

Review? Please? (: 


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